Metamorphosis: an abridged sonnet
tags:
poems
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate--
I still cannot claim my condition is so horrible.
To wake as a dung beetle is far more deplorable.
1 comment:
Or to read of one in such an outcast state...
Post a Comment